


On Leave

by PhantomProducer



Series: A Call to Arms [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, Established Steve Rogers/OC, F/M, Fluff, I'm gutter trash, NSFW, Oral Sex, Oral Sex - Female Receiving, Oral Sex - Male Receiving, Shameless Smut, Should've been working on something else, Smut, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, fluff and smut and end fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 03:11:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6887218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomProducer/pseuds/PhantomProducer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers gets some time off between missions, and goes home to his gal. Holly Martin is more than willing to oblige and welcome home her Star Spangled Man With a Plan.<br/>Set in the timeline of my FF.net story, <em>The Eleventh Hour</em>, before the events of <em>Avengers: Age of Ultron</em>. Takes place roughly around February, 2015. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Leave

**Author's Note:**

> ...So, this is my life. I could not get the idea out of my head while I was working on another chapter for my ongoing story on FF.net, so...there you go.  
>  I know, I know...I'm total and complete gutter trash.  
> I own nothing of the MCU, just the OC, Holly Martin. You can read about her relationship with Steve Rogers, and experiences with the other Avengers over on FF.net under the same username I have here.

The key turned in the lock quietly, the security system deactivated moments beforehand. Carefully, the heavy panel was pushed in, the man beyond them sighing heavily as he tromped through the opening. It had been a long ride down from the city, five hours of traffic and poor weather weighing down on him. Steve Rogers had returned, the mission he and his team had been on for the last three days being completed. Pacing into the living room, he dropped his duffel to the floor, his shield landing on top of it. His winter coat and helmet followed, the lack of tidiness ignored as he collapsed into the sofa. Leaning his head back into the cushions, he exhaled sharply, glad to be back at the place he starting to consider as his home. He was happy to back with the person who made it, and him, feel that way. And speaking of which, where was she? Where did Holly get off to, now?  
  
Glancing around, he noticed that the place was nearly silent, save for the click and hum of the refrigerator. Holly had gotten off work only an hour before he'd arrived, and yet the place was silent as the grave. Hunching his shoulders, he rose from the couch, leaving his shield and bag behind as he paced down the hall, hand working at the zipper of his jacket and brow furrowing. The door to the bedroom was ajar, and he gently nudged it away. Taking in the sight before him, he exhaled slowly, leaning against the doorjamb and crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
Holly was home, thankfully, and apparently had crashed out while waiting on his return. The low light of her lamp splayed over her, the yellow glow brushing over her face and dark hair. Her repose was unbroken, the lines of her face smoothed by sleep. She was propped up by pillows, both his and hers supporting her even as her head lolled to the right. One hand was clenched loosely around her phone, the other was tucked around a book, thumb pressing between the pages so as to not lose her place in the story. An unbidden grin bloomed on his lips; even in her unconscious state, she refused to let the book go. Her chest rose and fell, her breathing steady, peaceful. He shrugged ruefully to himself, knowing that peace was hardly a normal state for them to be in. The ache in his heart was somewhat assuaged by seeing her there safe and sound, in being near her again.  
  
Treading carefully across the carpet, Steve slipped the phone from her hand, the notification light blinking (she must have fallen asleep before his arrival text had come in). Setting it face-down on the nightstand, he reached next for the book, prying it away without difficulty. Idly, he turned it over to read the title; it was an anthology of Sherlock Holmes stories. Snorting low, he shook his head to himself as he drew open the drawer of the nightstand, finding an old receipt to act as a bookmark. Setting it atop the phone, he sat himself on the edge of the mattress, staring down at her for another moment or two. Her button-up shirt was opened, the tank top beneath it bared, the hem of it riding up slightly. The sliver of skin peeking between it and the waist band of the sleep shorts she’d changed into caught his attention, his hand stretching out to trace it. His touch was feather-light, as he was still debating whether or not to wake her. He’d stolen away for the next few days, roaring out New York to get to D.C. as soon as could be. But even with him practically chomping at the bit to see her, be near her, he didn’t want to take the calmness away from Holly.  
  
His desire to touch her was contradicting him at every turn, and Steve inwardly rebuked himself as he stretched forward, lips pressing to her forehead lightly. Inhaling slowly, he savored her scent, all warmth and sweetness in her skin; he missed this when he was trapped on the quinjet and miles apart from her. Another peck, and then he brushed one along her jaw, his fingers smoothing over her stomach. Palm against her navel, he felt her stir as he pressed his nose into her dark hair, breathing deeply as he moved his lips to the corner of her mouth. A deeply contented sigh rose from her throat, the sound making heat flood through him. Enticed, his mind was made up for him as he let his mouth descend upon hers. The gentle kiss roused her, her lips parting and her tongue to trace across his bottom one as she woke up to him. Gladly, he let her past, meeting the strokes with his own before lifting away. Her wide brown gaze glimmered in the low light, a slow smile stretching her lips as she looked up at him.  
  
“Sweetheart,” she said, a hand gliding to the nape of his neck, the pads of her fingers sliding under his jacket and caressing him smoothly. His answering grin was bright, bright enough to lift the shadows at the corners of his mind.  
  
“Doll,” he returned, dropping another kiss on her lips before shucking the jacket off, letting it drop to the floor unceremoniously. As Holly sat up a little more, preparing to pull herself off the bed, he quickly canted his head in the negative, toeing off his boots before turning to face her again. His blue gaze flew over her, their fingers entwining briefly. Tugging on his hands, he silently agreed to her insistence at joining her, letting her guide him to settle in the V of her legs. His arms curled around and underneath her, and his head pillowed on her chest. He was careful, trying to keep his full weight from bearing down too much on her, but she wasn’t prepared to let him go too far. She carded through his blond hair tenderly, shifting as he slipped a hand beneath her tank top, tracing faint patterns on her skin and sighing again.  
  
“Got home safe, I see,” she said after a few moments, her arm dropping to curl around his shoulders. A smirk decorated his lips, overtaking the flinch that had flashed over his features.  
  
“More or less,” he remarked, the sting of his bruises on his arms and torso having receded enough so that he wasn’t wincing upon even slight contact with them. The crew he and the others had run into had packed a wallop, decent hand-to-hand combatants guarding the facility they were stationed at with a modicum of ease. However, a few good punches did not delay him much, and Captain America and the rest of the Avengers had shut them down eventually. Steve felt as much as heard the deep breath of relief in her, his palm cupping her side and squeezing lightly. She worried so much about him while he was gone, and he knew how justified the concern was. Still, he was pleased to at least bring her a measure of comfort by confirming verbally what she could see for herself.  
  
“Good,” Holly replied, his hair fluttering under her touch. He closed his eyes, listening to the beat of her heart as she chose to go on. “Very good. Did the mission go okay?”  
  
“Hmm.” His hum of agreement made his chest rumble, vibrate against her body. Going back to tracing her side with the pads of his fingers, he heard the hitch of her gasp deep within. “Got a couple of informants, they should have some dirt regarding a HYDRA base we’re chasing down.”  
  
“Think they’ll give it up so easily?” she wondered, not a bit facetiously. Though he hadn't given her any strong details of the missions he'd gone on, Holly was smart enough to understanding the likelihood of the enemy revealing any information to the Avengers.  
  
He snickered at the question. “No, but that’s why Nat’s working on them.”  
  
Curiosity, her curiosity, was hanging over them in that moment, but he pulled away from it. Talking about work, he decided, could wait. All he wanted in that moment was her. He drew his hand out from under her shirt, propping himself up on his elbows as he nuzzled at the join of her neck. God, he'd missed her, he thought as he let his lips linger there. From the way her fingers had pulled up the hem of his t-shirt, explored the expanse and muscles of his back, and from the upward arch of her body, he got the impression that she'd missed him, too.  
  
“You sure they won’t need you back there anytime soon?” Holly asked, fingernails leaving a tingling trail along his skin. The sensations shot straight downward, a minute buck against her causing her to gasp and him to chuckle.  
  
“Even if they did,” he pointed out, peppering kisses along her jaw, “I’m not going anywhere tonight.”  
  
The promise in his voice made her eyelids droop, her smile stretching out. “Lucky me.”  
  
“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.”  
  
Steve’s mouth returned to hers for a few more moments, before he pressed a hot trail down her neck. The pulse point beat beneath his lips, and he could not help himself, indulging on sucking at it and making a mewl rise out of her. He resumed his path, parting his lips and touching his tongue to her skin as he made his way to the scoop of her tank top. A hot breath shot down it, causing her to press up against him, the burn spreading between them as he tugged the shirt down enough to expose the edges of her bra. He bussed along the swell of one breast, and then the other, before letting the cotton fall back into place. The little pout she sported at his abandoned efforts was enough to make him smile, his body sliding back up and allowing him to take the jutting lower lip between his own, tongue tracing it before sucking on it gently.  
  
“Steve,” she moaned into his mouth, a shudder flooding through him and a slow burn flushing down his body. He groaned back, pressing against her core once more before he resumed his course. Lifting the bottom portion of her tank top, he tucked it over her breasts, baring her abdomen to his touches. She squirmed a little as he traced over her ribs to the bit of belly he knew she did not like on herself. He was not of the same mind as her, and showed her as much when he lowered his face towards it.  
  
“Baby doll.” The murmur was muffled against the skin of her stomach, the breath of the whisper making the muscles beneath contract slightly. Playfully, he nipped around her navel, making her gasp and squeak, his own laughs reverberating in his chest. The salt and musk of her body, the warmer scent of vanilla and sugar teasing him, drawing him down to press the tip of his tongue along it as he kissed her, was intoxicating.  
  
He wanted to taste Holly all over. Every single intimate part of her. As of yet, Steve hadn’t done so, but that night, his brain was encompassed by the idea. The captain wasn't naïve; he'd had access to the Internet for three years now, had stumbled across things that he probably shouldn't have. And, more to the point, he was a young man (in body and mind, if not true age), who talked with other young men. Even when the world was at war, they shared experiences and stories with other guys who had quite a few tales to tell in regards to dames and amorous pursuits with them. The thing was, he wasn't one of those who had acted upon his impulses. Rather, he'd been a listener, learning what he could surreptitiously as he waited for his right partner. And now that he had one, had a girl that he wanted to try with, the thoughts and stories came roaring back. He couldn’t help it; he truly wanted to know, wanted the deepest tang of her on his tongue. The idea gripped him, wouldn’t let him go, hardening him as he considered it. That in mind, he moved lower and nuzzled at the line of her sleep shorts, fingers curling around the waist band and tugging at it gently. An inquisitive glance shot from him to her, silent permission being asked.  
  
To that, Holly nodded, her hips lifting enough to allow him pull them off but her eyes holding a note of concern beneath the pleasure. While she enjoyed sex with Steve, she’d come to expect certain things of him in the process of the act. Something about this time was different. The fact that he was still, for the most part, clothed, nagged at her, but she did not understand why that was. When he’d removed her lower garments, his blown-out eyes staring at the small thatch of hair and her aching sex, she watched him with a hazy curiosity. It wasn’t the first time he’d ever seen it, but she could see the concentration of his gaze, the wheels of his mind turning. And when he lowered himself down between her legs, a kiss pressed on each knee as he edged closer to her, her eyes widened with total clarity. A hand shot down, cupping his chin and pulling him up enough to make him pause in his course. Confused, he quirked an eyebrow at her, and Holly minutely shook her head.  
  
“Oh, no, Steve. You don’t…you don’t have to…” she trailed off, eyes flicking down for a second. It was something she’d not asked him for, in their times coupling; she was never sure if it was one of those things that would rankle against his sensibilities, against his own upbringing and what he viewed as respectful or not towards the woman he wanted. She wanted to give it some time before she brought up the matter of oral (it wasn’t as if either of them were doing poorly in the interim, anyway). She just didn’t want to push it…no matter how much heat was pooling between her legs just at the thought of him indulging in her fantasy. Steve turned in her grasp to kiss her palm, letting her thumb stroke along his cheek.  
  
“And if I want to?” he asked, the low timber of his voice causing a thrill to shoot up her spine, her thighs involuntary twitching. Unaware of it happening, her own pupils dilated then, wider than earlier. Wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue, Holly swallowed and breathed deeply. The ache between her legs persisted, grew, and she knew her answer before she even spoke.  
  
“Well, then…I’m not gonna stop you, but—” Holly's next words were lost as Steve rose up again, mouth claiming hers and the denim of his jeans rubbing against her. As swiftly as he'd come up, he was moving back down again, lips and teeth sending sparks down her inner thighs. Her toes curled, one hand knotting into the comforter beneath her as he edged ever closer to her center. Once the heat of his breath ghosted over her, she felt her head loll back into the headboard, eyes snapping shut. She squeezed them hard in place of instinctively clamping her legs around his head when he finally ran the flat of his tongue along her slit. Her hips bucked, a shuddering breath stuttering her chest as his hesitant licks increased in fervor. As he went, he draped his forearm over the waist to keep her from moving too far. His fingers shuffled along her skin, the erratic dip of his tongue causing them to alternate brush and grip. A few kisses were dropped down there along with the slide of his other hand, his way of feeling out what to do. Though it was clear that he'd never done it before, he wasn't doing terribly.  
  
It occurred to her, in the midst of her moaning and groaning, that he must have at least thought about doing it before. That he'd pictured it in his mind; given that he was an artist, and a master tactician, he was very good at visualizing things before execution. The thought that Captain America had most likely dreamed of trailing his mouth over her core and lapping at her made her giggle. It caught his attention, his intense blue gaze locking onto hers when she opened her eyes again.  
  
“Something funny?” he asked, the corner of his mouth turning up. Holly tipped her head to the side, eyes glittering in the lamp light.  
  
“Not at all, Captain.” She winked at him, and he half growled back, smirking despite that. Secretly, she posited that he actually rather liked her calling him by his title in bed, but it wasn't something that he insisted on her doing. If anything, he preferred it when she was so far gone in ecstasy that she could barely call him anything.  
  
His eyes did not glance away from hers as he went back to his pursuit, running his tongue down until it slanted over the bundle of nerves. Her stuttering gasp and shift of her hips under his arm told him that he was on target, and so he began to pay closer attention to it. Swirling around it, licking it, was making her tremble, her body more and more at the mercy of his touch.  
  
“Suck,” she moaned after a couple of moments, and when Steve furrowed his brow in confusion, almost pulling away, her fingers immediately wrapped into his hair to stop him. She tipped her flushed face down towards him, gaze flicking the general direction that he'd been going at for the last several minutes. “Suck on it, Steven.”  
  
Understanding dawning, he pressed his lips back to it, latching around the nub and carefully doing as she requested. The arch of her back, the sounds emanating from her aroused him more, making him do it again and again. His eyes closed, the tang and salt on his tongue causing sparks to flutter along his veins and his own heat to jump up. Tasting her all over, it was what he wanted, and he was getting his wish. And since he wanted to taste more, he slipped off the bundle of nerves down to her opening, flicking his tongue into her passage. Between his attentions there and up, he could feel her body start to unravel beneath him, the wetness of her coating his mouth and chin.  
  
“Holy shit,” she whispered, and instead of reprimanding her for her language, Steve grinned against her slit before almost attacking it mercilessly. Holly was too lost in the waves of pleasure that were building up, threatening to crash over her and drown her. Her grip in his hair had to have been painful when she clenched, but he made no complaints, the run and bump of his tongue anywhere and everywhere down there too distracting for both of them. The sounds he was making as he went, the little grunts and mutterings, were music to her ears. Afterward, she could not recall if she had made the request, or if he had taken the initiative, but at some point he slipped a finger, then two, inside of her. Pumping them in and out, sucking and licking above them, curious, lust-blown eyes taking it all in...it had her tumbling over the edge, the shockwaves of her orgasm drawing a low moan out of her throat. And, persistent, overachieving punk that Steve was, he lapped it all up, cleaning her and swallowing her taste as she came down from her euphoria. The back of his hand wiped across his mouth as he scooted back up the bed, supported by one elbow as he stared down at her with hooded eyes.  
  
“That was...okay?” he breathed out, wanting to hear her say so along with seeing her flushed, trembling state. Her dark brown gaze met his beautiful blue eyes, just as hazy as her own. He looked about as wrecked as she felt: red face, hair skewed, breathing hard. A little grin cropped up on her lips, and she dipped her chin.  
  
“So good, baby,” she told him, rising up to kiss him. He hadn't thought that she'd want to, after his ministrations, but the dual tastes of her tongue and the residual one of her core in his mouth made a shudder run down his spine. Pulling back, she nipped his bottom lip, making him groan. Releasing it, she wrinkled her nose at him. “Maybe less teeth next time.”  
  
The promise of a next time, that she would let him do it again, excited him more than he could say, and so he took the suggestion in stride.  
  
“I'll keep that in mind.”  
  
“Alright,” she concurred, a finger trailing lazily down his chest, to his stomach, to the waist of his jeans. Holly's gaze flashed at him as she kissed him again, nudging him onto his back as her hands did away with the button, lowered the zipper of his fly. He'd gotten his taste, and she wanted some, too. “Now it's your turn.”  
  
The ability to even speak was beyond him as she tugged his pants and boxers off his hips, positioning herself over him much like he had over her only minutes beforehand. And it was absolutely out of mind when first her tongue, and then her mouth, encircled his hardened penis. Up and down, licks to the underside, swirling around the head, her nails raking from his waist around to his ass, wedging between him and the bed. His own palm twisted into her hair, his eyes rolling back into his head she continued to work at him, the only coherent thoughts being her name and a string of curses and praises he could not recall falling from his lips after the fact. The fact that it taken her a little while to find a rhythm, due to not having engaged in the activity for years, did not bother him; he was appreciative of anything she was able to give him. The pressure built and knotted in his stomach, his teeth digging into his lip for a few seconds. His free hand flew behind to the slats of the headboard, fingers curling around one when Holly's palms slid out, across the top of his thighs. The lingering brush of her skin tantalized him as she curved one around what her mouth could not take in, and trailed a path down to his balls with the other. Once the cupping and gentle massaging started, moving in time with the slide of her tongue, he directed his outward ecstasy into the slat he was hanging onto, the wood creaking beneath his grasp as he heaved a gasp.  
  
"Sweet Je—princess," he moaned, her answering giggle vibrating against him. Her mouth was occupied, and while she could not verbalize her normal comeback of "nerfherder", he could feel it in the shift of her lips, the glide of her tongue along the ridge between the head and the shaft of his penis. Either way, he took whatever she had to offer, and took it gladly. Bobbing up and down, her hum against his penis pierced through him, made him thrust up (delicately; he didn't want to lose control at the expense of pleasure and somehow hurt her) into her mouth, her hand, the light drag of her teeth and fingers driving him utterly mad. And the wooden slat in hand creaked louder.  
  
Steve had been so close when he was working at her, and now that it was his turn, he found that he could not keep it together for much longer. He wanted it to last, tried to think of literally anything else but the hot cavern of her mouth, the press of her tongue along him, but it was to no avail. One deep gasp later, he emptied himself inside her mouth, back arching and the sweat on his forehead a thin film that he swiped away. Releasing the slat, he idly noted the new finger notches he'd embedded into it, snickering silently as another blush tinged his cheeks. Catching his breath after a few moments, he wet his lips with the tip of his tongue and glanced at her sheepishly.  
  
“Sorry, I...sorry,” he apologized, not meaning to force himself down her throat like he did. Holly, having swallowed discreetly, just canted her head to the left as she rose onto her knees. Her wavy hair, cut just below chin length a couple weeks ago, swung becomingly around her face as she looked at him. The lines and contours of her shifting body in the warm lamp light enchanted him, the picture permanently impressed in his mind, and he made a mental note to commit it to paper sometime in the future.  
  
“Don't,” she mildly remonstrated, softening it with a smile. Crawling closer to him, she tipped his chin towards her with her palm, sweet pecks along his jaw and at the corner of his mouth. Sighing contentedly, she laid her head on his chest, listening to his pounding heartbeat and the returning control over his breath. He had nothing to be sorry for, her good, handsome man. “Bet you're really glad to be home now.”  
  
Steve laughed at that, his lips brushing against her dark hair as he curled an arm around her, keeping her close as he pulled the edge of the comforter off from the side of the bed and tucked it around their exposed lower halves.  
  
“I was glad to be home regardless, love,” he replied. “But I gotta admit, this was better than a ticker-tape parade.”  
  
She giggled again. “Sure, it was.”  
  
There could have be more done, they could have continued, the culmination of their acts leading to the full expression of love, but for the time being, it was enough to simply be with each other. He'd missed her, she'd missed him, and they had each other again. It was enough. Languidly, they relaxed, encumbered by one another's hold and losing themselves in the peace of the moment. At least, they did until Steve felt the urge to speak bubble up in his chest.  
  
“Oh, and doll?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
The shit-eating grin on his lips could not be quelled or controlled, but he just managed to keep the humor from his tone. “Less teeth next time.”  
  
Holly half glared, smacking him lightly on the arm as an unbidden smile threatened to bloom. “Shut up, Steven.”


End file.
